


Just Hold Me

by meetmebehindthemall (orphan_account)



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Codependency, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emetophobia, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/meetmebehindthemall
Summary: Michael returns home after a cooperative meeting to find Y/N having an especially bad panic attack.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Just Hold Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ll admit this was totally self-indulgent bc I’ve been hella anxious all day, but w/e, hope y’all enjoy, the Y/N in this one was basically me, besides being with an antichrist irl anyways, lool. Most of the descriptions in this are based off real panic attacks I’ve had, so if reading about anxiety triggers you, I’d recommend not reading this one.

“Y/N? I’m home.” You heard Michael call out vaguely. It was hard to hear, everything was kinda muffled, like you were underwater.

After a while, it seemed, the door to the bathroom opened, and you looked up from where you were crouched in the corner to see Michael staring down at you sympathetically.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Michael said, picking you up bridal style, and cradling you in his arms.

You sobbed openly into his shoulder, breathing still coming out in jagged gasps as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

Laying you down in bed gently, Michael reached over to the bedside table for a tissue box, gently plucking one out and wiping your tear stained face.

You felt him delicately dabbing between the valley of your breasts and looked down to see that you had cried so hard that mascara tracks had traveled down to your chest.

“Michael,” You stared at him, still terrified and shaking. “I think I’m dying.”

“Shh, shh, love. You’re not dying, I promise. This is a panic attack. Remember, you’ve had them before, it passes, and everything turns out fine?”

You nodded, heart still pounding out of your chest, and gasping for air.

You were shaking so hard that the bed beneath you was practically moving. Michael was soothingly rubbing circles into your skin.

“Let’s do what the therapist taught you, remember? Fingers?”

You nodded and gave Michael your palm as he counted your fingers with you.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Over and over.

You tried putting your entire focus into the mindless act, willing your body to start calming down.

Smelling something, you were broken out of the relaxation technique, as you started to gag.

Someone was grilling something outside, and you could fucking smell it.

Michael quickly grabbed the mini trash can you kept in your room, and held it up to your mouth, pulling your hair back as you started to vomit.

Eventually, after getting it all out, Michael grabbed another tissue, wiping your mouth.

You felt your heartbeat and breath start to slow and sighed in relief. Vomiting always made you feel better afterwards.

You focused on breathing in for 8 counts, and holding for 4, and breathing out 8, as you closed your eyes in concentration, willing everything away and just focusing on your breathing.

You vaguely felt Michael cup your face in his hands gently, thumbs rubbing soothingly across your eyelids, as you did this for another 10 minutes, making sure the panic attack fully subsided before opening your eyes.

Michael was staring at you, smiling softly, eyes full of concern.

“See? You did it. You stopped it.”

You nodded, proud of yourself, and also slightly embarrassed.

You knew you couldn’t control it, and it wasn’t your fault, but every time Michael had to see you like this, it made you feel ashamed.

You prided yourself on always being in control, never letting other’s see your weakness, but even though Michael was your boyfriend, and you trusted him with your life, you still hated when he had to witness your panic attacks. They made you feel so gross and weak.

Your lip wobbled slightly, and you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Michael cradled you into his chest and rubbed your back soothingly. “Honey no. Stop, this isn’t your fault.”

“I just hate when you see me like this.”

“I know, I know. But I love you. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll be with you through it all, forever.”

You laughed a little, feeling a wave of euphoria rush over you as you pulled back from his arms. You always felt amazing after a panic attack, while also being tired as shit. You supposed it had to do with the body making up for such a traumatic experience.

“I must look like a mess right now.”

Michael smiled, as he kissed you gently. “You’re always beautiful to me.”

You giggled a little, hugging him tightly, “Stop.”

You pulled back, suddenly remembering what today was. “Oh shit, how did the meeting go?”

Michael nodded, stroking your face as he explained, “It went well. All of the Outposts are finally constructed, and selections have been made. I think it’ll happen soon.”

You nodded, a sick feeling slightly churning in your gut, as you knew what that meant.

You admitted, with such control issues, it kind of hit hard on your morality, knowing you were in bed with the literal antichrist, and complacent with his plans to end the world.

But you loved him with all your heart, and would support him in anything, just like he would support you. You knew in your heart, that what he was doing was wrong, but leaving him felt unbearable.

He was like half of your heart, and you felt like if you were to ever part, you might just die.

In the end, that won over your sense of right and wrong.

It still felt like hell sometimes though.

Michael got up to go get a cup of tea for you, and you settled back against your pillows, grabbing the remote control, and mindlessly scrolling between channels, as you waited for him to return.

He came back quickly, handing you the cup of tea, and gently pecking you on the top of your head, before settling down beside you, not bothering to remove his jacket or gloves yet.

You sipped at the tea, before settling it down on the bedside table, and snuggling up into Michael’s chest as you watched Wheel of Fortune, feeling your eyelids start to get heavy.

Michael wrapped his arms around you, lips resting against your forehead as he whispered, “Go to sleep, love. I’ll still be here when you wake up. You were so strong today, I’m so proud of you.”

You sniffled at his words, before shutting your eyes and falling asleep against his chest.

Maybe being with him while knowing what he was going to do made you a horrible person too, but at this point you didn’t care.

If the world was gonna burn down, well, let it.

You had Michael by your side.

That’s all you needed, anyways.


End file.
